


A Reminder

by Gamemakers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM, Blood, Classic Kylux, Dubious Consent, Light Bondage, M/M, No Aftercare, PWP, Scarification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:18:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7700029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamemakers/pseuds/Gamemakers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the destruction of Starkiller Base, Hux teaches Ren a lesson he'll not soon forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Reminder

The Force can lessen physical pain, giving one access to a well of energy and vitality that can keep an individual moving and active long after their physical body would have given out. Kylo chooses not to use it. He has earned the biting of the ropes that bind his wrists, the screaming of his joints, pushed too far but not allowed to dislocate, the shaking in every muscle that struggles to keep him upright. He has earned far more than Hux will give him. With anyone else, he would call it mercy.

Hux left what feels like hours ago. He did not say when he plans on returning. He never does. Kylo knows by memory the knots Hux uses. Even blindfolded, he could easily undo them with the Force, give his weakened body some reprieve before rebinding himself. Hux would never have to know. Kylo considers this possibility every time, but today, he won’t do it. He never does.

He has lost feeling in his fingers. It’s closer than he deserves to a blessing.

* * *

 

Kylo Ren is always striking. Now, clothed only in the ropes Hux has bound him with and pale after weeks spent in a bacta tank, he’s beautiful. Ren’s back is turned to him, hiding the ugly scars left over from his fight with the girl. It takes every ounce of muscle he has to keep him standing, as his arms are bound so high and so far apart that only standing on his very tiptoes keeps his shoulders from becoming dislocated. His position is not so dissimilar to ones used by primitive human groups for executions. The criminal is nailed by his hands to a beam, his arms outstretched so that he must pull himself up with every breath. Eventually, he dies of some combination of exhaustion and asphyxiation. From what he has read, it’s a rather gruesome demise. Hux would very much like to witness one someday.

He made no noise when he entered the room, and Ren has not shifted position, but the other man has sensed his presence. He’s not sure why the man allows this, listens and does as he’s told even when Ren could so easily overpower Hux. Perhaps it’s a desire to prove that he can take direction. Maybe taking orders from a First Order general is a symbol to him, the final betrayal of his parents and Skywalker. More likely, Ren just has a heavy streak of the masochist in him. It doesn’t much matter to Hux. He’s always valued outcomes over their motivations.

Excitement prickles under his skin as he moves closer. It’s a pity he had to use the red ropes instead of the black ones that feel like sandpaper against the skin. Those do look so much better with Ren’s complexion, and it’s only fair that he should be uncomfortable after his actions had cost Hux so much. His black rope, along with his other favorite tools, was lost along with Starkiller Base. In time, he’ll replace them, but for now, the few implements before him will have to suffice. Ren has been waiting for this a very long time, and he has deserved it even longer. He would hate to disappoint him now.

“What are you waiting for?”

* * *

 

Kylo regrets the words the minute they leave his lips. They have never explicitly laid down rules for their encounters, but some things press the boundaries too far. The room is silent. If he did not have the Force, he would think Hux had left. Kylo has always been a stubborn creature, and he wants nothing more than to wait Hux out, grind down on the other man’s patience the way Hux does on his until the general has to cave. It’s a tempting strategy, but Kylo will always be the first to cave.

“I apologize.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” A gloved hand trails from the nape of his neck down his spine, and Kylo shivers. Even that small motion makes his bonds cut deeper into his skin. His cock, already hard, now begs for attention.

Only the slightest of twinges in the Force warns him before the knots unravel. He collapses to the floor in a heap, barely managing to shield his face from the worst of the fall. The impact knocks the wind out of him, and he can do no more than whimper when Hux’s boot presses into the back of his head, forcing his face into the duracrete floor.

* * *

 

There will be pretty bruises all over him tomorrow. Usually, he would take out the whip now, add a few lashes to complete the composition, but not tonight. Tonight, he has far more planned for the man pinned beneath him. “Come on, then,” Hux says.

Ren doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, doesn’t give any indication that he can hear Hux.

“If you can’t wait, get yourself off now. I won’t have you hurrying me along all night.” It sounds like a trap, and Hux knows it.

His response is muffled. Hux puts more weight on his front foot, and the man beneath him groans. “I didn’t ask for your thoughts on the matter.”

* * *

 

There’s no lube, and he doesn’t want to incur Hux’s wrath by asking for it. Instead, Kylo brings a hand up to his mouth, which Hux allows by moving his boot away. Kylo takes advantage of that moment, sitting up faster than any non-Force user could. If Hux wants him back down, he’ll say something, but for now, he seems happy enough to watch Kylo. He makes a show of it, putting each of his fingers in his mouth in turn pulling them down his tongue in a display that’s absolute filth. He should be done now, should be following Hux’s instructions to get this over with, but he can’t resist. Kylo shoves four fingers into his mouth with enough force that he only barely stops himself from gagging around them. He hollows his cheeks and moans, and he hears Hux’s breathing quicken.

But such a show can’t last forever. “Go on,” Hux prods, and he knows better than to disobey.

His fingers are wet, but it’s not enough. Every pump hurts, and he bites down on his lower lip to stifle any noises as he tries to hurry through this. He will come from this, comfortable or not, and once Kylo Ren puts his mind to something, he never fails. But there’s the droid, and the traitor, and the girl…

This isn’t the time to think of that. Kylo looks up to see Hux engrossed, watching him with a passion even Kylo rarely sees. They meet eyes, and Kylo’s hand never stops moving, just a hair too tight but he doesn’t want to stop now, not when Hux is leaning in towards him, so engrossed that he forgets that aloofness he loves to wear as a mask. Kylo’s fingers glide from his thigh and up his side to tweak at his nipple, and Hux never breaks eye contact, his eyes so intense that Kylo can’t bear it, and his eyes shut as he finally comes, spilling onto his hand, thighs, and the ground before him.

Hux gives him only a handful of seconds to recover. “Have you had enough?”

He’s panting, and he’s filthy, but none of that matters to Hux, so it doesn’t to him either. He shakes his head.

“Do you believe the Supreme Leader’s punishments for you were enough?”

It’s not a real question. It’s never a real question. “No,” Kylo answers, doing his best to keep his voice even as he stares at those black leather boots. But the shame shows through, as does the fear that’s coiled so tightly in his chest that he worries he might break. He has been broken before, remolded and refigured by so many pairs of hands that he hardly recognizes the man he has become.

Hux doesn’t respond, doesn’t budge a millimeter from where he stands. He’s always been that way: strong-willed and unyielding, the image of what the First Order needs in a way that Kylo can never be. Or, at least, that this Kylo will never be, for sometimes, being broken is not so much a loss as an opportunity. He lifts his head to meet Hux’s eyes, gray-green and glimmering. “No,” he repeats, “I deserved more.” This time, his voice does not shake.

Hux flashes him a thin, tight smile. “Get on your back.”

The duracrete floor is hard and cold, and he flinches when his back hits his own half-dried semen, but he doesn’t dare move, not while Hux is watching. Instead, he follows an exercise that Master Skywalker taught him so many years ago, loosening every muscle in his body in sequence. The fear remains, but his body relaxes even as he Hux retrieves a knife from his jacket pocket.

* * *

 

He wants so badly to palm himself through his trousers, but he has to show more control than Ren. He’s not some desperate teenager, hasn’t been one for years, and he refuses to act like it. Hux settles for rubbing his thumb over the blade as he waits for Ren to finish. Earlier, he had debated between a traditional knife and a vibroblade. He is pleased with his choice. Vibroblades instantly cauterize the wounds they create, and he wants to watch Ren bleed. He deserves to, after the destruction he caused at Starkiller Base. Snoke is too lenient with him, always has been. The meditation, the training, everything Snoke requires of Ren makes the knight more powerful, but it doesn’t make him more disciplined. Even after Starkiller’s destruction, it had been more of the same: more training, more meditation. Hux had been stripped of much of his authority, but Ren, whose guilt far outweighs his own, had been excused with no real consequences. Now, it’s finally time for that to change.

Ren looks beautiful, his skin contrasting perfectly with the dark gray duracrete beneath him. When he is certain he has Ren’s full attention, he shrugs off his jacket, folding it neatly before setting it aside. The click of his boots against the duracrete floor are the only sounds as he walks towards Ren. Even those disappear when he kneels down beside the man.

“Don’t move.” He reinforces his words by putting a hand on Ren’s shoulder, pinning him down. The man could push him away, for even injured, Ren is stronger than Hux can ever dream of being. But only Ren’s eyes move as he tracks the knife’s movements. Hux runs his fingers through the man’s hair almost lovingly, careful to avoid the angry red scar that runs from Ren’s jaw up into his hairline. Ren keens into the touch, and his eyes drift shut. From this angle, he looks young, perhaps even too young to understand the atrocities he’s committed.

Hux holds tightly onto that thought as he makes the first cut.

* * *

 

He’s pushing hands away the instant he feels the knife cut into his chest. By the time he opens his eyes, Hux is across the room, pinned to the wall, knife still in hand. Hatred burns in his eyes as he stares back at Kylo. “Let me go,” he hisses. Though he now lacks much real power, all the authority of the First Order echoes behind his words.

For the moment, Hux can be ignored. A droplet of blood glides down his chest, and Kylo does not bother to wipe it away. He runs his fingers over the cut itself. He pushed Hux away before he could do much damage. It’s only an inch long, and the knife didn’t even go deep enough to scrape against his ribs.

“Let me finish.”

“Killing me?” he asks.

Hux scowls. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. Let me finish your punishment.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Give you a reminder,” he replies. “I won’t let you forget what you cost me.” Ren loosens his Force grip and lays back down. Hux looms over him, still in full uniform. “Are you going to behave this time?”

“You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” That earns him a glare.

This time, Hux holds him down with a hand on his shoulder as he cuts. Kylo hisses at the pain, but he doesn’t dare move as Hux works with surgeon-like efficiency. Time after time, the blade bites into his chest, just high enough that he cannot see what Hux is doing, and the man’s face, perfectly intent, gives no clue as to his purpose. He wants to fall into meditation, to let his mind slip away from the pain, but this is part of his punishment, a punishment he has earned more than even Hux knows.

He cries out when the knife grazes his sternum. “Stay down,” Hux orders, and the choice is taken away from Kylo when Hux digs his fingers into the scar tissue around his right eye.

Kylo chokes down a scream as the knife cuts again. He has experienced far worse on the battlefield, but there, he could always dip into the Force, feed his pain into the swirls of emotion all around him. Here, there is nothing but Hux’s focus. His muscles twitch, but he will let Hux finish.

* * *

 

He sits back on his heels to admire his work. Ever since he found Ren, alone, unconscious, and pitiful beyond belief after his fight with the scavenger girl, he had been thinking of a punishment. When he thought of the name, Hux knew he had made the correct choice, but this exceeds even his highest expectations. Blood blurs the edges, but he can still make out the letters.

_SOLO_

Hux rarely does anything without a purpose, an agenda, but he is not sure what prompts him to rise. From this angle, the letters disappear, but Ren’s pain does not. It’s written clearly over his features, and he’s gone horribly, wonderfully pale, making his new scars stand out even more against his skin. The man starts to get up, and at first Hux considers pushing him back to preserve his view a moment longer, but then he considers a very different alternative. Ren’s come. Why shouldn’t he?

“Sit up. Come here.” He prides himself on the fact that his hands do not shake as he undoes the fastenings on his trousers. It’s a small victory, but those seem to be all he can find these days. He’s already erect, painfully so, has been since he made that first cut. There have been whips before, ropes, chains, but none of them have felt as powerful in his hand as that little knife. It had been a graduation gift from his father, the one token of pride the elder Hux has ever allowed his son. The commandant certainly wouldn’t be proud if he saw his son now, for taming Ren does not begin to compare to the shame of losing Starkiller Base.

Still, he moans at the first contact of Ren’s tongue against his cock. The man licks a path from the base to the tip, swirling around the slit to lick away the first drop of precum. Ren has many faults, but his skill with his mouth makes up for many of them. He can tease until Hux begs, keeping him a millimeter from the edge for what feels like an eternity before he finally lets him come.

But he has no patience for teasing tonight. Hux grabs Ren’s hair and pulls him down. Ren chokes, but Hux doesn’t stall. He chooses to keep his hips motionless, rather moving Ren’s head up and down, fucking his face, forcing him to take more and more. Ren’s eyes have gone wide, and he’s drooling, and Hux isn’t sure what he’s trying to say with the noises he manages to choke out, but it doesn’t matter. It’s far too early to come. He hasn’t been at this for more than a couple minutes, but it’s been weeks, and –

He manages to pull out with a second to spare. Ren catches a few drops in his open mouth, but most of his seed drips down his neck and onto his chest, where it mixes with the blood from the cut. Hux cups Ren’s head, tipping his face back to get a better view of his new marking. He pulls his hand away the moment Ren starts to keen into it. He puts his cock away and moves towards his coat to retrieve the one other item he has stowed in the pocket.

“Clean yourself up.” He drops the bottle of bacta in front of Ren. It’s the cheap variety that most First Order troops carry in their field packs. It soothes and numbs as well as protecting the wound from infection, but it does nothing to stop scarring.

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies.


End file.
